


suddenly the lamp comes in

by skatingsplits



Category: The Haunting of Bly Manor (TV)
Genre: F/F, Flowers, but it's nothing heavy, i don't know what happened, nose kisses, period typical heteronormativity, this is so much softer than i ever go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:50:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26980162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skatingsplits/pseuds/skatingsplits
Summary: It's an amazing thing, really. Never in her wildest dreams would Jamie have guessed she’d ever meet a woman who could make her forget about plants.
Relationships: Dani Clayton/Jamie
Comments: 25
Kudos: 585





	suddenly the lamp comes in

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Title is a quote from The Portrait of a Lady. I'm not actually the biggest James fan but it seemed appropriate.  
> 2\. I can't believe how soft this is, I don't know who I've become.  
> 3\. I haven't got around to reading any other Bly Manor fic yet but I'm so excited to!

The first time Dani is the one bringing Jamie flowers, she brings red roses. Nice ones too, actually. Obviously Jamie could grow better ones in a dark, beetle-infested cupboard in northern Siberia but it's not Dani's fault that the competition are lagging so far behind. And although she feels a tiny, totally irrational prickle of jealousy at the sight of her girlfriend with an armful of another woman's flowers, even Jamie has to admit that buying them from your own shop might sort of defeat the point of the romantic gesture. Jamie’s thank-you is a kiss because- well, who wouldn't take any opportunity possible to kiss Dani Clayton? Idiots, that's who. Unlucky sods who can't even imagine how good it feels when Dani's fluffy hair brushes her cheek, or the heady rush of excitement she still always gets when she puts her hand on the firm curve of Dani's hip. Miserable bastards who’ll never know how much richer and sweeter Dani's strawberryish perfume smells when the soft skin of her neck is just inches away. Sappy as fuck? Maybe. But that doesn't mean it isn't true. 

Except Jamie is so caught up in the fucking euphoria of being the only person in the world who gets to kiss Dani that it takes her longer than it should to realise that Dani isn't really reciprocating. Which, if Jamie can say it without her head inflating to the size of one of the gargantuan pumpkins in the garden, is unusual enough to set off some alarm bells. In fact, instead of pressing or allowing herself to be pressed up against the nearest flat surface as soon as humanly possible, Dani buries her head in the crook of Jamie's neck and mutters something that's completely unintelligible but doesn't sound overwhelmingly positive.

“Can't hear you, babe,” Jamie says lightly. It's probably nothing. She probably saw a kid drop their ice-cream cone on the street or, like, a flyer for a distressingly cute lost dog. Inside, Dani's the toughest person Jamie has ever met, bar none, but on the surface she's soft as fucking marshmallow. It'll be something small. It won't be... _that_. It won't. 

“I thought it would be romantic.” Dani's voice floats up, a little louder.

“It is romantic,” Jamie confirms, puzzled. Whatever it is, it isn't _that_. There's a certain tone in Dani's voice when she mentions it, a resignedly deliberate neutrality that breaks Jamie's heart more than sobbing and screaming ever could, although both are what she feels like doing on Dani’s behalf. But there's unrestrained sadness in there now, and it makes Jamie want to punch whatever caused it- man, woman, child, animal, inanimate object, whatever- into next week if it would make Dani feel better.

“It was.” Fluffy blonde hair tickles Jamie’s neck as Dani lifts her head up, and Jamie has to pointedly ignore the Pavlovian way it makes her cheeks flush. “Until the woman in the shop asked if I was buying them for my husband.”

“And you said, no, I'm gayer than Kenneth Williams on ice and I'm taking them home to my dungaree and Doc Marten-wearing girlfriend?”

Dani obviously isn't amused by the quip but the misery on her face gives way to bewilderment for a second. “Who the heck is Kenneth Williams?”

Jamie brushes the Anglo-American culture barrier aside with a wave of her hand and cups the soft skin of Dani's cheek instead.

“So, the florist thought you were straight. Heinous, obviously-" Again, Dani doesn't laugh. “But surely it's happened before?”

“Well, yeah. But I didn't even correct her and I just-"

“You're an idiot,” Jamie tells her affectionately, planting a kiss to the tip of Dani's nose and inwardly rejoicing when she finally smiles. “Babe, not wanting to come out to every random in the street who assumes you’re a heterosexual is honestly just common sense. Hey, if it gets you home to me faster, I'm all for it. And if it means you stop giving my enemies your business, even better.”

“Jamie, I don't think you can count someone as your enemy if you've never met, not just because they also happen to like plants.”

“I can. If your enemies list is only people you actually know, you're doing something wrong.” It’s a beautiful thing, getting Dani Clayton to laugh. There's no better feeling, Jamie has already accepted that- if she, god fucking forbid, lives to be two hundred, nothing will ever be better. Sometimes she thinks she should mind more, her achievements peaking like this before she's even hit thirty, but she doesn't. She can't, not when she can look at that little crinkle in Dani's nose instead.

“It's just...” Dani trails off and sighs, tucking her head back into the crook of Jamie's neck. “It isn't fair.”

Jamie understands, she really does. They're lucky here in San Francisco, relatively; they can walk down the street holding hands with barely the bat of an eyelid, something that wouldn't even bear thinking about in her muddy little Yorkshire hometown. But Dani, as always, is right; it isn't fair. Being in love with the most incredible human being in the known universe is something she should be able to scream from the mountaintops seven times a day. With a fucking megaphone.

“Thank you for my flowers,” she murmurs into the softness of Dani's hair. “I feel bad, though. I didn't get you anything.”

Dani's head pops up again, her face earnestly indignant now. “You don't have to get me anything! That's not what presents are, Jamie, they're supposed to be a spontaneous expression of affection or-"

“Babe, that was a come-on,” Jamie says patiently. “You were meant to say ‘I'm sure I can think of something’ or, you know, ‘maybe you can make it up to me', something that means I get to drag you into the bedroom and make you stop thinking for at least the next three hours.”

Dani rolls her eyes, but when she catches Jamie's hands in her own, she does start tugging gently in the direction of their bedroom.

"Please. As if you ever need an excuse.”

The bunch of red roses lie on the counter for hours after that. It's only when Jamie wanders back out for a glass of water, wearing just her pyjama top and some very rumpled hair, that she remembers to put them in a vase.

It's an amazing thing, really. Never in her wildest dreams would Jamie have guessed she’d ever meet a woman who could make her forget about plants.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, come see me @ marisacoulterr on tumblr where I'm available for fix prompts and general shippy weeping!


End file.
